An Unexpected Guest
by ThirdWheelOtaku
Summary: Bramblerose Bramble is just your average hobbit...expect shes a literal halfing of hobbit and human. Her life is going fine until she get s knock at her door. Her week, and maybe her life, are about to change forever.
1. Chapter 1

"Ugh! Where is it? It was here last week!" she yelled. Bramblerose was looking for the dried rosemary she picked last month. She was saving it for when the trout swam in from the south. Bramblerose loved trout above anything else. It used to be rabbit steak until an incident with a wizard ruined her appetite of them.

A fat fish sat on her kitchen counter, gutted and cleaned. Bramblerose was preparing it her favourite way: fire smoked trout with rosemary and lemon zest. All she needed was that damn rosemary. It was supposed to be by the window, above her viola. She looked in every nook and cranny, but no rosemary.

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Now I have to make a trip to Hobbiton. Great." She grabbed a handful of pennies, her shawl, and locked her door behind her. Molly, her pony, was waiting by the gate. Bramblerose hopped up onto Molly and gave her a pat on the neck. "Ready, Molly? Were gonna go see Clematis!" They set off just as the sun hit the mid sky.

They arrived around noonish when Molly finally gave a notice of thirst. Bramblerose tied her up with the other ponies and was left to deal with the children petting her. The hobbit made her way between shops, waving hello and saying salutations. She made a bee-line for the herbal shop with a smile on her face and jingling pennies in her pocket.

"Bramblerose! Hey, how are you-" Clematis was cut off by Bramblerose slamming her fist on the counter.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Clem? It's Bram! We've talked about this, Clem!" Bram whined like the child Clematis remembered her as.

She placed a hand on Bram's. "Hey, I'm sorry you were named by your drunken father and depressed mother. But it's your name, hon. Get used to it. So, I assume the usual order?" Clematis grabbed peppermint leaves, oranges, and a pound of birdseed.

"Yes but I also need rosemary. The trout came in." Bram plucked a few leaves from the enarest bushel and placed them on the counter. "Now, Clem, I only have 10 pennies." Bram trailed off and rapped her fingers on the counter wood.

"Hon, I can't keep skirting prices for you." Clematis scanned the store. "This is the last time, you hear me? You had better get a paying job." She took the 10 pennies and bagged the items. She walked around the counter and handed Bram the bag of goodies. Before Bram could say thanks, Clematise grabbed her into a hug, her head just under Bram's chin. "You are my best friend, Bramblerose Bramble. I want you to be happy."

Bram left, groceries in hand, and Clem's words in her mind. She met back up with Molly, undid the braids in her mane, and made way for her hobbit hole. She could feel the whispers and stares as she weaved between shops.

"Might as well be totally human."

"Look, the REAL halfing."

"Honey, don't point. Don't look either."

Bram was sick of it, just as how she was sick of it for the past 20 years. She was the best thing to gossip about, the best lesson for children, and the best story to tell travelers. They'd talk about how her mother was a sell-body and one day sold it to the wrong person. Her father ended up being, not another hobbit, but a human. Bram, the literal Halfling, now a gossip topic for when market day rolls around. This is why Bram lived on the outskirts of town, away from other hobbits, her only real neighbor being Grandpa Joseph.

Bram was at her gate by the time her angry tears subsided. Her old neighbor walked by pushing a wheelbarrow and smiled.

"Hello, Bramblerose. Fine weather, no? It's perfect for growing plants. I love it when the pansies bloom. Oh look, one's riding Molly!"

Grandpa Joseph has known Bram since she was born. He was one of the few hobbits that treated her like a normal person. He knew her mother when she was still a bar waitress. When she began selling herself, Grandpa Joseph helped clean her house after all her customers left. When Bram was born, he took care of her, teaching her to walk and talk. By the time she was 15 she already towered over him, but he loved her just the same.

Bram smiled back and waved. 'I'll leave some plums on his doorstep tomorrow.' She thought. The inside of her hobbit hole was clean as a whistle. All the chairs in place, shows in a neat row by the oak door, and pictures hung to the exact degree. Bram was proud of her home, considering how it looked when her mom was still alive and doing business. She ran a successful brothel, more so than the ones in Bree and Laketown combined. Her mom left her with enough money to last a lifetime but Bram wouldn't get a cent of it until she had her first child. Bram promised herself that her son or daughter would have a hobbit father, if it would ever happen.

Bram's trout was the perfect shade of crispy brown by the time the moon was up. The fish were big this year so she cut it in half to save for later…or in an hour. She crumbled the rosemary in her hands and squeezed her last lemon on it, making the juice splatter on onto the fire below and causing little sparks. Using a spatula she slid her dinner onto a plate and with a glass of cherry-plum wine she sat by the window. It was just starting to rain, giving off that earthy smell the hafling loved so much.

She enjoyed the combination of the rain outside and the fire inside as she ate her meal. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Bram dropped what was on her fork. She looked at the clock; it was a quarter past 7 and she wasn't expecting anyone. Clem was at home with her husband trying to make a baby, Grandpa Joseph was asleep or at the pub, and mother was dead.

"There's literally no one else," she said out loud.

She glanced out the kitchen window only to see curly black hair, and long at that. Big grey coat and…braids? She began to think her visitor was not a hobbit. She tiptoed to the door and looked out its window. The visitor was angled away so she could not get a look at his or her face. Although, she could spot an ear and it was not pointed like a hobbit's, more of a rounded shape but bigger.

She cracked her door open and let out a weak, "He-hello?"

BAM!

Bram was on the ground and her door was wide open. She rubbed her head and looked up to see the visitor, now intruder, in the door frame. Her eyes grew huge with every foot she studied. His boots were huge and had metal toes. His pants were black and looked coarse with weird beads hanging off. His belt held his shirt in place while his coat, covered in different shades of black patches and some kind of animal fur, made him look bigger than he already was. He got down on one knee and offered a meaty hand in her direction.

"Did I hit you?" His voice was rough in a leadership was but calm, like the river Bram caught her trout in. Now that she could see his face, she could now notice his long black curly hair and the braids in front and in his minimal beard. His nose was larger than a hobbits and more bulbous than a humans. He had a small mouth but his voice made up for that.

"You-you-you…" Bram stammered.

"Me what?" The man stood up and removed his coat. Bram could now see a long dagger on his hip.

"You're a dwarf!"


	2. Chapter 2

"You' a dwarf!"

The dwarf scrunched his brow. "Is there a problem with my being as a dwarf?" Bram gulped.

The hobbit wrestled herself up off the ground. The back of her dress was a bit dusty and her sandal had fallen off. The dwarf brushed a rosemary sprig off her shoulder. Bram shooed his hand away and tried to find her big girl words.

"I…wha-…why are you in my house? Who are you?" Bram was so flustered her cheeks got red from embarrassment. The man closed the door behind him and dropped his coat on the floor.

"I did not know Baggins was married." The dwarf walked towards the kitchen and sat down at Bram's meal. "I see I am the first to arrive."

Bram still stood at the door, contemplating what he just said. "Baggins?" Bram picked up the heavy fur coat and hung it up. Her hanger almost gave way. She spun around and faced the dwarf. "Wha-you mean Bilbo Baggins? He's nice but not marry-material. Besides, he lives more north. Also, what does Mr. Baggins need with a-a-a dirty and rude dwarf such as yourself, anyways?" Bram stomped over and grabbed her dinner. "And maybe ask, alright?"

The dwarf stood up. He was easily a head taller than Bram, which made her feel small. He said, I a low voice, "You have no right to talk to me that way. I am superior to you in all ways, my quest valiant and just. My status beyond yours and everyone's. What right have you to give me such tone?"

Bram was scared shitless, but she wanted to sound cool and not show how nervous she was. Bram replied, "I-I have every right!" The dwarf tightened his gaze. "You come into my home and demand food. I have every right to show anger!" Bram wanted to pass out right there, her knees were weak and her eyes were getting glassy. But the dwarf loosened his stance.

"Alright. Never have I had a woman stand up for her home in my presence. My company will arrive soon. Please go get Baggins and we can begin our preparations." The dwarf pulled the trout back towards him and began eating.

'Oh my god, I think I peed a little.' Bram thought. But what the dwarf said began to register in her mind.

"Baggins. What? No, I said he doesn't live here. He is in Bag End, up north past Hobbiton. You are the second person to ask for him. Well, not specifically. Gandalf the Grey came by a couple days ago asking if I knew any hobbits with no close family. Besides myself there is Hydrana down the road and Bilbo more north. You know, his great uncle-"

Suddenly, the man had spun her around from the counter from where she was standing. The knife she was holding nicked his face. "Oh geesh! I'm so sorry, I-"

His eyes locked with Bram's. "You met Gandalf? That means I am not far from my destination."

"I already said," she shook herself free. "that Bilbo Baggins is on the other side of Hobbiton!" She dampened a cloth and pressed it against his cut. He pushed it away.

"I've had worse."

Bram looked at the clock. It was almost 8. With the man still standing in front of her, she could see his face more clearly. It then clicked in her brain.

"You're a dwarf." She said out loud.

He scrunched his eyebrows in her direction. "Aye," he said. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain." He sat back down at the table to finish the trout.

Bram turned around, rolling her eyes at the words "king" and "mountain." She resumed chopping carrots. The moon was shining through the kitchen window. It was a clear night, she could see every star in the night sky.

"Look at that moon." Bram said to Thorin. The man grunted in reply. "It looks like it's soon going to be a full moon."

A chair skidded across the floor and suddenly something was pressing against her back. She could feel his breathing on her hair and his braids tickled her ear. She was so thankful that he could not see her face right now. She was red as a beet.

"What? What day is it?" His voice made his chest vibrate on her back. She had already known this man maybe twenty minutes and she already wanted to bed him and bear all his little king babies. He pressed closer so he could get a better view from the window of the moon and stars. Bram wanted to melt into a little human-hobbit puddle.

"Um…I believe it is Tuesday. Tomorrow is another Market day in Hobbiton." Bram scooted from under the dwarf and let out a breath. The strong man pinning her against the counter was enough to make any hobbit a bit warm.

The dwarf stared at the moon. "Tueday…" he grumbled. He twisted around and made way for the door. His hand was on his coat when Bram intervened.

"No!" Bram had grabbed his arm without thinking.

"Take your filthy halfling hands off me."

The hobbit pulled her arms to her side. "I mean…don't go just yet."

Thorin raised an eyebrow at the girl. "Why?" he asked in a low voice.

Bram fumbled with her fingers. "Well…it-it-it's dark and to get to Mr. Baggins' house takes another day, past Hobbiton in West Farthing. You'd have to go over those hills and on the edge of woods and who knows what's out there."

Thorin grumbled. He slowly took his hand away from his coat. He muttered something under his breath. Bram leaned closer to hear but was pushed back by Thorin striding down the hall. He peered into a room. It was the study where Bram liked to play her viola. It was the loftiest room so she sound her instrument made was amplified and made the most beautiful sound.

"Do you know the way to Bilbo Baggins' home?"

Bram was startled. "Ye-yes!" She stammered.

"Good. Then in one weeks time you will take me to his home in…" He looked at Bram.

"Bag End." She finished for him. "And!" she added. Thorin did not turn towards her. She moved past him and motioned to another room. "I have plenty of rooms. You can choose one to stay in. But not this one." She tapped on the door closest to the kitchen. "This one is mine and I would greatly appreciate you not going in."

Thorin grunted, played with his beard braids, and sat in front of the fire. He pulled a long pipe from inside his shirt and filled it with what looked like tobacco. He lit it by tilting it into the fire. Bram opened a window then sat down to enjoy the other half of her trout.

She began to study Thorin, son of Thrain, "King Under the Mountain." She'd heard of dwarves but never had actually met one. One time she thought her mother had bedded one a long time ago. Turned out it was just a hobbit who had been sat on as a child.

From pictures she's seen, Thorin was on the more attractive side of dwarves. His face was a bit more angular, his jaw shaped by his coarse, black beard. The little braids were held by silver beads with some kind of engraving on them. On each hand, one in his lap and the other holding his pipe, had a chunky metal ring on each middle finger. His palms looked rough, as if they'd seen adventure.

Bram must have been staring for a while because when she looked back up at Thorin's face, his eyes pierced hers. Bram blushed 20 shades of red and quickly gobbled her fish. She gobbled too fast because she began to choke on a bone. Bram hit her chest and coughed up the little fish rib and heaved an exasperated breath. She looked again at the dwarf.

He was still looking at her, his eyebrows now slightly raised.

Bram stood up. "Alright, Mister Thorin. Pick any bedroom, breakfast is at 7. Should I wake you or are you able to be up by then?" Her fingers trembled. She knew she was pushing her luck with being like this with him. He merely grunted a response.

"Okay. Well, good night, Mister Thorin." She tossed her plate and cup into the sink and made a quick bee line for her room, trying along the way not to make eye contact with the dwarf.

Her hand was on the door knob when he spoke to her.

"What is your name, halfling."

Bram didn't turn her head to reply. "Bramblerose Bramble."

Thoring puffed some smoke into the fire. "Good night, Lady Bramble."

Bram slammed her door before he could see her blush for the millionth time that night.


	3. Chapter 3

I am so sorry, yall! I was so busy and I never had time to upload this chapter. I had it all written and typed out but never got a chance to upload. I think there will be 7, maybe 8 more chapters after this one. Thanks for taking an interest in my story! Leave any comments and reviews!

Bram was walking through what seemed like a forest with patches of random meadow. Like, there was dense tree then a small area of clover and flower. And on each patch was a ray of light that broke through the canopy. It seemed something would snatch her up in the trees but play with her in the meadows.

She could hear crows cawing. A mouse shrieked as it was plucked from the ground to be someone's lunch. Or dinner. Bram could not tell what time it was, or even what day. She was now standing on one of the meadows. The flowers seemed to bend over and tug at her feet. Little sparks came from the flowers but did not hurt the hobbit. They felt warm.

Bram continued until she came to a clearing. The trees formed a giant circle and bent slightly outward as if a force was making them do so. Something was sitting in the middle. As the hobbit got closer it appeared the figure was covered in hair. Head to toe it was covered in its thick black hair.

Bram was scared. She wanted to turn around and run away but the figure made a sudden cooing noise. Her heart beat faster. Her breath was out in short bursts. She reached out her hand and rested it on the figures, what she guessed, shoulder.

It spun around and the halfling screamed. It had no eyes, giant ears, and a mouth so grotesque she wanted to vomit. She began to cry and she got a sudden stinging headache. The figure reached out with large, meaty hands and grabbed her face. Bram whimpered as it got closer. It tried to say something but made a gurgling noise instead.

Bram replied, "What do you want with me?"

The figure opened its mouth and let out a noise.

RRR-AR-ERRR-ER-ERRR!

Bram yelled and fell out of bed and onto the floor. Underneath her, she could feel carpet and not grass and sparking flowers. There was ceiling and not a canopy of trees. The hobbit groaned and hoisted herself up off the floor. Outside her window a rooster continued to crow. Her bed side clock read 6:30 AM.

"Awesome." The hobbit said to no one.

Bram yanked on pants and opened her door. Her visitor had chosen the room across hers. He had not closed the door all the way. Bram peeked in and could see him sleeping. As she went to close the door the man shifted. She could see he was holding a knife in his hand, his knuckled white from clenching it all night. At first, she was scared but then she questioned the universe as to what happened in this man's life to make him sleep with a weapon.

The hobbit waltzed to the kitchen, the question still in her mind, and pulled out a pan and butter. She had decided she would surprise Thorin with breakfast. She cooked for half an hour all the while humming a songless tune. She had decided on making scrambled eggs, toast, jam, ham steak, and a pitcher of juice. After wiping her hands she went to her guest's room and knocked on the door.

"Good morning, Throin!"

FWOOSH

The dwarf has sat straight up and launched the knife in Bram's direction, missing her ear by a hair and sinking into the door frame. Bram let out a whimper and crumpled to the floor. She could feel the vibration of footsteps before she passed out.

Bram awoke on her couch in front of the fire place. A blanket was wrapped around her and she had to struggle to free herself. She could hear noises from the kitchen, noises of mumbling and plates clinking. She shook herself to gain feeling in her feet before walking into the room. Thorin was standing at the sink.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Washing the dishes. I ate all the food you made." Thorin continued to scrub the plates and cups.

Bram sat down at the table. "How long was I out?" she asked.

"About an hour."

Bram rubbed her head. There was a bump from where she must have hit her head as she fell. Almost immediately she got up and ran to the guest room. The door frame had a sizeable notch from where the knife landed. Bram stormed back to the kitchen.

"THORIN!"

The man grunted a reply without turning around. Bram did not think that was good enough. She picked up a cloth and threw it at him. It landed half on his shoulder and half on his hair with a plop, but it was enough to make the dwarf turn around, butter knife in hand.

"Throin, your knife caused a gash in my door frame!"

The man replied, "I cannot fix it, halfling. I can only work in stone."

Bram got flustered. "Well, if you can't fix it, then you can repay me by helping me with chores." She walked across the room and retrieved the cloth. "Today, you are going to help me with gardening, laundry, grooming Molly, and making a trip to Hobbiton for supplies."

Thorin did not respond. He walked back to his room and retrieved his boots. Sitting down, he pulled them on and rolled up his sleeves. Bram smiled and retreated to her room to change. As she closed the door, she could feel eyes on her back as if studying her.

Inside her little cave of comfort, Bram chose pants and a nice lacy shirt. Even though Thorin was the first man to come into her house in a long time, she did not intentionally choose a shirt that showed off her best assets. She despised her mother for what she did with her life, but thanked her for not having the standard lumpy hobbit physique.

She emerged from her room as she braided her hair to the side. Thorin was eating an orange and dropping pieces of the peel on the floor. Bram wanted to say something but instead handed him the broom and opened the door. She pointed to the peels then to the outside. Thorin snorted, set the broom aside, and resumed his orange eating and peel dropping.

"Mister Thorin! If you make a mess you clean it up! If you're going to be like this for a week then I'd suggest you find someplace else to stay."

Bram knew her words were testing his patience and he could, at any second, change his mind and actually leave. The halfling unconsciously held her breath until Thorin stood up.

"Oh please, I'm sorry!" Bram cried. "I didn't mean it. Please don't go!"

Thorin grabbed the broom and hit the peels over the threshold and into the grass. Handing back the broom he got close to Bram's face and said, "Never back down, girl. It shows weakness and gives your enemies power." Thorin stepped outside and continued to eat the rest of his orange.

Bram managed to get herself to the kitchen with weak knees and gripped the broom handle. Her heart was beating so fast. But she wasn't scared of her visitor. She remembered this feeling, back when she was almost 13. She had been friends with a boy for a while and began to develop feelings for him. Problem was, when she told him, he immediately rejected her, calling Bram a disgusting creature of a whore. It really was what made Bram stay by herself and never really want to love again.

"No bother," she said out loud. "I will deal with this feeling later." She put the broom in the closet and grabbed her gardening gloves. She could hear Thorin calling after her to hurry up. Bram laid a hand on her heart and sighed. With gloves on her hands, she strolled outside to start her week with her unexpected guest.


End file.
